


There's a Clearing Ahead

by jackaddison



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Acts of violence, Blood, Chains, Chloroform, Civilian AU, Kidnapping, Knives, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Oral, PTSD, Rape, Reaper76 - Freeform, Rope Bondage, SEP Era Gabriel Reyes, SEP Era Jack Morrison, Slasher: 76 skin, So much violence, Tasers, Threats of Violence, Unresolved Ending, Video Cameras, You're Welcome, breath play, false imprisonment, how do i tag if there are two jacks, slasher jack, so much non-con, then violence, threats of murder but then no murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 20:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21214754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackaddison/pseuds/jackaddison
Summary: A few months ago, Gabe goes missing on a hiking trip.  He comes back to tell the tale, but it's outlandish, and nobody is rushing out to catch a boogeyman in the woods.  Left with threats that the ordeal isn't over, he decides to preempt the sequel by gathering incriminating evidence.  Still frightened silly by the experience, he brings Jack as a partner/security blanket.  He's confident that he has the upper hand this time.





	There's a Clearing Ahead

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Witchcraft](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296758) by [Prius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prius/pseuds/Prius). 
**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months ago, Gabe went missing on a hiking trip. He comes back to tell the tale, but it's outlandish, and nobody is rushing out to catch a boogeyman in the woods. Left with threats that the ordeal isn't over, he decides to preempt the sequel by gathering incriminating evidence. Still frightened silly by the experience, he brings Jack as a partner/security blanket. He's confident that he has the upper hand this time.

He was able to gloss over the painful parts of the story with his loved ones, but he had to recount it to the police in full. That had been the biggest set back in trying to recover. 

It hadn’t been that long, now, and the trauma was still fresh, but not so volatile. As it faded, smoothed over by a soft coating of defensive amnesia, his anxiety grew.

He got out alive, and he didn’t really remember how, or under what conditions, but he did remember that he didn’t leave with anything but his clothes. Running, gasping in cold air and whipping through bushes and past pine trees so fast that he had new cuts by the time he was out of the woods, his ID and other belongings hadn’t been on his mind. He cut himself some slack for forgetting it.

But the man had made a show, as he went through his belongings, of stopping to look at it. He’d read aloud, “Third Street,” in a grumble before putting it away.

After Gabe went to the police, and after they told him they probably couldn’t catch the guy, he looked into moving. He found that it was financially impossible. The police couldn’t help him with that either.

He was starting to suppose that, if he wanted peace of mind, he would have to go out and get it himself. When the anxiety was finally louder than the trauma, he called Jack.

His other friends had been very supportive. His gratitude was vast. But they hadn’t been through the same things he and Jack had, not even Ana. They would never understand him in such a basic way as Jack did.

It took a lot of planning to prepare for a step like this. Gabe was in Boulder and Jack, damn him, was in Colorado Springs. 

Gabe told him as much as he could stand to. Anything that had to do with a prospective mission. He needed to disclose as much as possible, so that Jack could tell him whether or not it was even feasible. 

After four weeks, Jack had decided that the idea held water. He arranged to come down for a few days to work out details and execute it. But he still hadn’t really told Jack exactly what had happened, and Jack hadn’t asked him to.

What made him feel particularly guilty was that he hadn’t told Jack the only real thing he knew about the man’s identity. He didn’t want the awful coincidence to breach the psychological safety bubble that Jack provided. But he knew, and he couldn’t forget it, and when he thought about his assailant, he always thought of him by name. The bastard’s name was Jack. Until he brought Jack into it, he’d never even thought about it deeply. They were such profoundly separate entities that it had always seemed like two different names. It wasn’t until he tried to refer to Jack over the phone with other Jack, and choked. He couldn’t find a subtle opportunity to bring it up, after that.

His anxiety was so bad, on the morning Jack was due, that he wanted to take something for it. The doctor he’d seen a few times for PTSD had prescribed sedatives for panic attacks. But he remembered this feeling from his deployment. He could, and would have to bear it without help.

He meditated, sitting in his own living room. If he focused on keeping his hands still, the rest of him would go still too. That was his trick. 

He remembered that Jack would rhythmically squeeze the strap of his rifle with his left hand when he needed to stay calm, and would subconsciously take any substitute that got in his way. Whether it was his canteen, or an asset he was responsible for, or another soldier’s clothing— if he wanted them to stay still with him— pretty much anything was fair game. He would even take Gabe’s arms and hands under the right happenstance.

Finally there was a knock, and he pulled himself out of his thoughts. He pushed himself out of the chair. 

He held his breath and opened it, and there was Jack, just like he remembered him.

Jack’s eyes went straight to his face, and Gabe saw his shoulders relax.

“Gabe,” he said with a relieved sigh. He came over the threshold, hooked his chin over his shoulder, and hugged him.

Gabe laid his head down on his collar bone. “Fuck, man.” His voice cracked, but he followed with a clearer voice. “Where have you been, you asshole?”

“You said not to come.”

“Yeah, I said not to come cry at my bedside. I didn’t say don’t come ever again.”

“It’s only been a few weeks, Gabe.” Said to placate him, he knew. Jack was smart enough to know that Gabe hated that he lived so far away, and smart enough to ignore it until Gabe was ready to confront him.

They released one another, and Gabe looked him in the face.

Jack looked down at his chest, and chuckled. Gabe got stuck on his smile, for a moment, then matched him to see what he was looking at. He dropped his arms and laughed, shaking his head. They were wearing the same shirt.

“You’re going to have to change,” Jack said, “I didn’t bring a spare.”

He tossed his hand up to pat Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll lend you one of mine. Crop top? Lingerie? Pick your poison.”

Jack just laughed.

-

“It wasn’t a fair fight,” he said, putting a cup of coffee in front of Jack. Jack sat at the stool behind his counter while Gabe stood in the kitchen. Jack listened, elbows down on the counter.

Gabe continued, “I mean, I’m not saying my pride is hurt. I’m just saying that I might have stood a better chance if I could have levelled the playing field.”

Jack sipped. “How so?”

“First of all, it was a surprise attack. He’s shifty as hell, so I’m not saying he won’t catch us off guard, but we can take away some of his cover. We go in broad daylight.”

He nodded.

“The first thing he did was cut open my leg. I’m not going in injured this time.”

“Right.”

“I’m not alone. Two of us, one of him.” He lifted his hands and shrugged, then put his hands down on the counter.

He nodded and shrugged in agreement.

“I wasn’t armed. All I had was my damn hiking equipment, and I wasn’t carrying anything when he jumped me.”

Jack’s brow wrinkled. “You didn’t have a weapon with you?”

Gabe laughed, flashing a white-toothed smile for a moment before looking down and shaking his head. “See, that’s why I asked you to do this with me.”

“What kind of heat were you thinking?” he asked. He held his coffee cup by the rim, hand hanging from the wrist.

“Nothing explicitly deadly. I’m not trying to put us away for manslaughter.”

“Murder,” he interjected. “We’re premeditating.”

“Right. I’m not going to jail for this asshole. I got us the best kind weapon against trash like this. Front facing body cams.”

Jack smiled.

“Like I told you over the phone. I think I had my bearings when he took me back to that cabin. I gave it a lot of thought while I was stuck there. We’ll take a map, and the cameras. We’ll hike out and see if we can find it, then get the hell out of there. Hopefully we won’t even see the guy.”

He hummed in slight doubt. “It’s his turf. Unless he’s stalking someone else, or living a double life, he’ll probably know we’re there.”

“I got mace, tasers, and telescoping batons. Nothing the guy doesn’t deserve.”

Jack shrugged. “Aggravated assault, worst case, and only if he has a really good lawyer. I’d be willing to do time for that.”

Gabe laughed, suspicious that he wasn’t joking. 

“But technically if he attacks us. it’s unprovoked. That’s National Territory, it’s not his property.”

“And we’ll have the video to prove it.”

“Solid. I’m in.”

“You’re really going to do this with me?” He smiled, trying to hide insecurity with accusation.

“What do you mean? I said I would over the phone, didn’t I?”

“I’ll be honest,” he said. “I thought maybe you’d agreed so that you could come down and talk me out of it.”

“Why’s that?” He leaned forward, rubbing his palms together idly.

“Well, Ana doesn’t really approve of the way I’m handling things. I thought you two might have talked.”

“We’ve talked,” he said outright. “We were worried about you, of course we did. But just about the facts. Not about the ‘shoulds’ and ‘shouldn’ts’.”

Gabe took a breath in and out, studying him. “I haven’t told her as much as I’ve told you.”

“She said you wouldn’t tell her the details.” He shook his head. “But she said that she knew that this person is someone you’re genuinely afraid of. Is he someone you and I can handle, realistically?”

“He’s fucking scary, I’ll be the first to admit it,” Gabe said, looking down at the counter. “He’s got an unrestrained willingness to kill people, firstly, and on top of that, he’s fucking good. He’s trained, he’s strong. I mean, he carried me over his shoulders back to that cabin.” Gabe started to stare off. He remembered having his wrists bound, a thick arm looped through them, a hand gripped on to his bicep, sometimes readjusting to his shoulder as they walked.

He’d given up trying to see anything of use through the narrow gaps between his blindfold and cheek. He had nothing to distract him from the pain, the unnerving sensations of being handled, and the calm, steady noise of boots walking through leaves.

His other hand was on the back of his thigh. At every uneven spot in the road, his hand would tense, pinching the muscle. He had a bruise by the time they got to the cabin.

He had decided pretty quickly, after he’d been injured and restrained, that he would conserve his energy during the commute. The spikes on the man’s jacket shoulders helped with that. He thought maybe if he struggled hard, he could knock them both over, but it would hurt like hell and the victory would have been petty. It wouldn’t have helped in the long run.

Maybe the maniac appreciated that, but he didn’t plan on leaving Gabe with any energy, whether he conserved it or not—

Gabe snapped out of it to a hand on his forearm. Jack was looking at him with that vulnerable sympathy of his. Gabe knew what he was thinking before he asked.

“Yes,” he answered, “I’m sure I want to do this.” He looked down, furrowing his brows. “If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else. At least I stand a chance in a fight.”

“We could let the police handle it.”

“They’ve hit a dead end. They probably won’t be able to move forward until someone else goes missing.”

“Try to lead them out to the cabin, maybe.”

Gabe sighed almost aggressively. Jack crossed his arms, and looked down. He gave him a moment, then asked, “Unless you don’t want to involve the police, for some reason.”

He muttered. “The police don’t want to be involved.”

Jack shifted his posture, and Gabe began trying to stemm the oncoming questions.

“They threw out my testimony,” he said with a clear voice. He forced himself to look Jack in the eye. “They deemed me a non credible witness. They said they’d “look in” to my complaint, and told me to go home.”

He seemed confused. “Didn’t they believe you?”

He looked away, and shook his head. “I told them a story about a guy in a mask with a murder cabin in the Rocky Mountain National Forest. I was concussed.” He winced. “And probably most damning, I made it out alive after the golden twenty four hours.”

He sighed through his nose. “So they assumed you were exaggerating.”

“If not outright lying. They very nicely asked if I was trying to protect the actual perpetrator by making the man out to be a stranger.”

“I see,” he said.

Gabe tried to read his expression. Jack was usually transparent, but his own anxiety clouded his vision. “Jack, if you want to bail,” he started.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said with a faint shrug. “I told you. I came, didn’t I? I didn’t show up just to bail out now. I just want you to be careful. You have to know your own limits, you know?”

He nodded along dutifully.

“If you go in compromised, your good intentions won’t matter. Nobody benefits if you’re dead.”

Now he shook his head, confounded. “I don’t know why I got out alive the first time.”

“Have to assume we won’t get that lucky a second time.”

He contemplated it, nodding.

They checked each others’ gear over in the house, donning vests and belts. They didn’t really make conversation. Gabe let Jack drive, because he was getting jittery. Jack talked about the terrain, especially as they got out of town, closer to the mountains.

Gabe kept his arms folded and focused on answering his questions. At one point he remembered that this was a stupid, awful plan, but he brought himself back around on it. Being pretty scared forever was worse than being really fucking scared once.

Gabe took a minute, when they parked. He stared at the dashboard as Jack took a drink out of his water bottle. He noticed that Jack subtly avoided looking at him, pretending as if everything was fine.

Jack got out and started pulling branches of pine down over the car. He’d parked south of a stand of trees, opposite the cabin’s supposed location. Gabe got out and went to the trunk. He looked at Jack, as he joined him.

“I could be wrong, you know,” he said. “Maybe my bearings were off, and this cabin is nowhere close to where I think it is.”

Jack smiled as he arranged his things. “Then it’ll just be a nice hike through the woods. No harm done.”

Gabe was stunned, as usual, by his loyalty. Jack was there when he needed him, that never failed, but it still surprised him every time. Jack had always been the better soldier, he thought. More the all American stereotype, with stronger moral boundaries. Gabe had been his commanding officer for a time, until he moved into special ops. Jack stayed the course, doing less clandestine work. He’d be out of field work long before Gabe, sitting in an office somewhere. Even now, Gabe’s hand to hand and field skills were starting to surpass Jack’s.

So it was stupid, he told himself, that he looked up to Jack as some kind of super human everytime he was scared. 

They walked north west.

-

They crept through the fallen leaves and pine needles, glancing at one another occasionally.

“He may already know we’re here,” Gabe said in a low voice.

Jack nodded. 

Gabe wondered if he was crazy, momentarily, because the idea of Jack following him blindly, and sincerely into a delusion was just painful. If he had imagined the whole thing, what would Jack do when they realized that? Would they ever realize it?

He put the question down, thinking, if the man wasn’t real, all the better. They can’t be ambushed by an imaginary slasher. Though, if they never find the cabin, he’ll live in fear, always. He shook his head.

Jack whispered to him, “Do you remember any of this?”

He nodded. “The grade is right. We went down maybe two miles, then it levelled out.”

He glanced back at Jack, who gave him a reassuring nod.

He swallowed. “And he never walked through any of this high brush,” he said, pointing toward the bushes of holly and scrub that broke up the forest floor. “So there must be a way through without crossing any.”

Jack nodded. “Let me take point,” he said, sensing Gabe’s apprehension.

Gabe wet his lips and nodded.

Jack looked over his shoulder and Gabe met his eye. Gabe’s heart gave a little flutter as sunlight momentarily lit up the blue of his eyes. “Watch my back?”

He nodded again.

Gabe followed the half hour, glancing at every bird, every shadow, but not flinching as he might have without company. He held his breath after the two mile mark, as the forest continued to slope down, but could breathe easily again when it leveled off at two and a quarter. Jack slowed to a stop, shortly after, looking at a wall of hedge brush in front of them.

He looked west, and started to crane his neck to look for a path. The brush curved around to the east, heading them off.

Jack looked south again. “We could back, and come around to the east.”

Gabe shook his head. “If anything, we’re too far east.”

“West, then,” he said, facing away to survey again.

Gabe was unsettled. He doubted his own sense of direction. But he’d counted the steps from the campground; he’d never messed that up before. He’d accounted for other Jack’s longer stride. Maybe he’d messed that up somehow.

He looked in Jack’s direction for a moment, trying to calm his nerves. Just as he shifted his weight to walk on, something flew across his line of sight and came at his face. He startled back and his shoulders slammed into something solid, and warm.

The thing in front of him forced itself onto his face. Something else had taken the hand with the taser, and was trying to wrangle it. Gabe realized after that split second that there could only be one perpetrator.

Jack. The thought screamed across his mind.

He had a cloth pinned to his mouth and nose. Chloroform. He saw the purpose, but he actually couldn’t breathe. Jack was smothering him with his hand. He couldn’t make any noise. Nothing in, nothing out.

Jack had his arm twisted behind his back. He reached for the mace on his belt, and Jack punished him into stopping by twisting his shoulder.

Gabe cast his weight away from him, and they scuffled forward in the pine bed. He looked at his friend. His back was still turned. He’d assumed it was only Gabe. Jack started hauling him back, lifting his feet off the ground. He took him down a slope, just past the foliage, and behind a drop off that had been eroded by rain on one side of an Aspen’s roots. 

Gabe’s head was pounding. He was burning up oxygen fast. He’d stopped struggling. His free hand hung from Jack’s elbow as his chest spasmed for air, and finally Jack loosened his grip. Gabe gasped in. His head reeled, and he fell limp.

In the clearing above, Jack turned at the gasp, and didn’t find Gabe.

He called his name, then again.

The assailant laid Gabe behind him delicately, wary of the noise, and readied himself with a knife. He waited for the other one of them to come down the same path searching, but instead he heard footsteps to the south of them. 

He backed up against the tree roots, and watched from the edge as the other visitor came into view, looking around desperately. He yelled for his friend, and went in the wrong direction.

-

Gabe came to with fuzzy vision and a headache. His eyes cleared slowly. He was on his back, in the pine needles. He looked to his left and saw the front of the cabin. He knew it had to be, having knowledge of it from the inside. His anxiety started to revive itself.

He looked around, and caught a glimpse of the orange eyes he looked up, to his right. He body tensed, and he got to his feet. He threw himself into a clumsy run, but something caught his left ankle and stopped him dead. Jack’s hand, he thought, until he looked back, chest down in the dirt, and saw a chain.

He was locked to the chain. Same damn ankle. It was happening again. He flipped himself onto his back and got up on his elbows.

Jack was sitting, watching from his wood chopping block. His elbows were resting on his knees. Next to him was a pile of Gabe’s equipment. 

As Gabe hyperventilated and processed, Jack said, “You really are that stupid.”

Gabe snarled.

“Couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

He was angry enough and scared enough to snap back, “I wasn’t going to live under your threats, you old prick.”

“Better to be dead, and at peace.” He sat back and put his hands on his knees. “Who’s your friend? A peace offering?”

“He’s nothing.”

“Oh, he’s nothing,” he patronized. He leaned forward and stood up. He ambled a few steps closer, into the range of Gabe’s tether. Gabe sat up higher, raised his hackles. His chain rattled.

He barked, “Back the fuck off.”

He laughed, continued forward. Gabe dared to come forward enough to get on his feet. But just as he was halfway up, one hand on the ground behind him, legs unfolding under him, Jack lunged forward and threw himself on top of him.

He slammed Gabe into the ground, struggling to get his hands where he wanted them. He forced a knee between Gabe’s legs, pinned him down with his hips. Gabe yelled out in offense. Jack forced his arms above his head and held his wrists with one hand.

Jack said through teeth clenched in effort, “You haven’t lost your touch, I see.” He put his other hand down on his chest, and sought out his right nipple through the fabric. He pinched it between his index and middle finger. Gabe yelled again, and bucked his hips.

Jack put his mask to Gabe’s cheek, and hissed into his ear, “Why are you always trying to get me worked up?” He put his hand down in the dirt to Gabe’s side for leverage, and gound his thigh into Gabe’s crotch.

He shouted, “Fuck,” at the top of his lungs, and Jack laughed again. He was engulfed with anger. He couldn’t think of any rational thought, only to yell and kick and struggle. Jack pressed his cock against Gabe’s hip, and he yelled, “Get the fuck off me.”

Jack chuckled, and got up onto his knees. He let Gabe’s wrists go, and straightened up. As Gabe started to react in confusion, head lifted off the ground, Jack gave him a swift punch to the cheek with his right hand.

He hit the dirt again, and stretched his jaw in mild disorientation as Jack got off him. He walked away, back over to Gabe’s belongings.

Gabe stayed where he fell, one knee cocked and arms laid out unevenly above his head. Too fed up to respond to Jack when he said, “That’s enough.”

He picked out the taser from the pile, and Gabe rolled his head back to center and looked at him.

Jack examined each side of it, then put it in his belt. Then he looked at Gabe and said, “You always have just what I need.” He started to walk toward thick foliage at the edge of his yard, telling him, “Your hollering would break any heart with a conscience,” then muttering, “It’ll bring him in.”

Gabe got up on his elbows again as he meandered. The blood drained from his face. His mouth hung open in horror. He was bait. He’d heralded him like some kind of goddamned damsel.

Faintly, in the distance, he heard his name called out into the forest, full of fear and urgency. He said, “No, fuck, no,” then yelled, “Turn back! Go back!”

He heard his name again, louder. 

He swore to himself, and yelled again, “Just run! God dammit, retreat!”

The forest went silent. Gabe panted, praying he was running. He shut his eyes and suppressed the fear of being left. He got up and went to the end of his chain, trying to reach his pile of weapons. He knew he wouldn’t leave them in his reach, but he tried all the same. 

He took a knee and feverishly searched in the direction of Jack’s voice. His captor wandered behind him, on the other side of the eye bolt that anchored Gabe’s chain.

He folded his arms. “He’s coming,” he said.

“He’s not that stupid,” Gabe hissed back.

“He’s friends with you.” He walked closer. Gabe turned on his knee to watch him warily. He looked at him, then went back out to the edge of the clearing. He crossed through the bushes, out of Gabe’s sight.

Gabe wanted to yell at him. It was a difficult reflex to suppress. He looked out it front of him. The front of the house had a half-circle of scrubs and brush around in. The house would be difficult to find from outside. There was one mature tree in the yard, near the edge, in the direction he was facing. It took Gabe’s mind on a gruesome tangent as his eyes wandered up the trunk to the sturdy, far reaching branches. The bark had been worn away in rings about the arms of the tree. Elsewhere, there were stripped bits rope tied and then felted into place, with tails dangling.

He felt a chill on his face. He’d started to sweat. His pulse pounded in his head. He turned to look for that bastard, then wheeled back to look for Jack. He breathed with his mouth open.

In the dreadful silence, he spotted movement. Jack, his Jack, was slipping sideways through the hedge, looking over his shoulder at the tree trunk. 

Gabe’s gave him wide eyes. His breath stopped in his throat.

Finding no one behind the tree, he scanned the yard, and found Gabe. Gabe sucked in a breath and shouted at him, “Get out of here, now.”

Jack froze.

He had never seen Jack hesitate before. It was surreal and horrifying. He abruptly spasmed and yelled out in pain. His body went tense to the sound of a taser, and when it shut off, he crumpled.

The monster came out of the brush behind him, and stood over him, taser in one hand, coil of chain in the other. Jack had fallen to his right hip, hand out in front of him to brace himself.

The killer walked around him, and put his foot down on Jack’s hand. Jack yelled again, in an unguarded, surprised way.

Gabe screamed his name across the yard, unable to ignore his cry.

The killer went still, standing with his weight centered, and looking down on Jack. He paused at his own leisure. “It didn’t sound like you were talking to me,” he said plainly.

Gabe hyperventilated.

He looked down at Jack, spied the chain peeking out of Jack’s shirt, and dug it out. His dog tags dropped against his chest, and he took those in hand and read. He dropped them and stood up straight slowly, looking down on him.

There was an awful silence. Then he muttered slowly, “So your name is Jack.”

The tone was so explicitly threatening, Gabe was frightened into coming at him again, and trying to intervene. He looked back at the chain on his leg when it stopped him, and he crouched to try to try to open it.

“Quit fussing with that, boy,” he ordered, and Gabe froze. He hated that he’d become some kind of obedient toward the old freak, but he remembered this too well. He was to be listened to. At the order, Gabe remembered that he’d never gotten one of those locks open before, and he wouldn’t now. If he didn’t quit, it would only end in pain.

He looked up. The old man wasn’t even looking at him. He was still looking down at Jack. Before he even moved, Gabe called, “Jack, don’t,” with an urgency that hurt his throat to vocalize.

Jack, the murderer, bent down and grabbed hisJack by the arm and neck. He lifted him up to his feet, keeping his grasp on his neck as he took a chain in his other hand. He wrapped it over Jack’s head without ceremony, as if winding up an extension chord, and he locked it tight around his neck. “Hold still,” he growled, as Jack started to struggle.

Gabe struggled to see what he was doing. He was so big, he couldn’t see anything past his torso. He jerked forward again as he saw him toss the tail of the chain over one of the tree branches above.

He yelled, “Stop,” and “Don’t,” before going into a chain of demands and pleas. Jack leaned back and gave the chain one good heave, and stepped aside to lock it into position. Gabe exhaled in relief to see that Jack had been raised to a precarious position, but he was still on the ground. He had been lifted off his heels, but he had just enough traction to buy himself some air, gripping the chain around his neck with both hands. He was wincing. Gabe couldn’t stand the look of it.

Gabe turned his eyes away, because bigger Jack was coming toward him now. He looked up at him, mouth left open for begging. He shut it. He had already tried begging for his own sake, and it’d done nothing for him. He scuffled back in the pine, gaining enough slack to stand and defend himself.

Jack just laughed at him.

But Gabe thought he stood a chance. He knew what weapons Jack carried, and he’d seen him in action before. He couldn’t see anything Jack could use for one of his dirty tricks. Most importantly, he wasn’t injured this time.

And he just said, “I can go beat up your friend, if you’re not having it.”

Gabe’s shoulders fell. He processed the statement in a hopeless stupor. Jack came up to him and grabbed his wrist. He let him take it and put it behind his back, let him take the other one to join it, now looking into the dirt. Jack pulled out a bundle of rope and let it roll out of his hand to unwind.

He started fixing Gabe’s wrists. The beginning of the end, Gabe knew. Jack gave his side a pinch, just to prod at something sensitive, before going back to the eye bolt to unchain him. Jack pulled the chain into a loose bundle as he came back to Gabe, then grabbed the back of his neck and shoved him toward the cabin.

He gasped through his teeth, but avoided landing in the dirt, and Jack took him by the right arm and walked him to the door.

-

He brought him straight to the basement. Gabe had barely left it, when he was here. His head spun when he looked down the staircase, into the dark pit. As they descended, Gabe spotted the two supportive beams in the middle of the room. Between them was a sturdy, thin pipe, bolted between the two at mid thigh height. Jack’s mid thigh, at least.

Jack sensed him starting to work himself up, and he let him go on the ground level. He let Gabe take a step in front of him, the threw the coil of chain around his neck. He yanked back, both hands clenched around bunches of metal, and dragged him over to the pipe.

Gabe made horrid noises, yelling and choking, slipping in the dirt that coated the wood floor. Jack pull his wrists away from his body, taking the chain in one hand, and forced him down. He bent him back by the neck until had no choice but to fall to his knees, arms behind him, on the other side of the bar.

Jack tossed out the chain loose in front of him, and produced more rope. He got into position behind him.

Gabe wanted to scream as the sensation settled in, the feeling that had kept him in agony almost every day with this maniac. The bar digging in under his arms and, and across his back, bruising him and burning him with the fabric of his shirt. While that lasted, anyway. Soon, he was sure, it would just be metal on bare skin. 

He corked in the scream but his face twisted in anguish. He pushed back the memories of what had happened to him here the first time.

Jack looped the rope around his waist, smoothing his hands over his abdomen as he went, keeping it in place. He brought it back to his wrists and secured him. When Jack’s hands left him, he tried to get himself out of that position, and was met with the same exact pain that he’d experienced his first day in Jack’s hands.

He sat still and breathed too quickly. There was no noise, and he couldn’t see Jack from his position. He must have stepped back, and now he was just watching. Gabe’s chest heaved with each breath.

Then he felt a gloved hand on the back of his neck, and he flinched. Jack spread his fingers into the back of his hair, and back down to massage his neck.

He kept expecting him to talk. To chide him, to threaten him, hell, even to give him one of those awful compliments, but he just held him in suspense.

Something flashed in the corner of Gabe’s eye, and he saw a knife come over his shoulder to rest against his neck. He shut his eyes as soon as he recognized it.

He felt his other hand slide forward, to his jaw. Jack gripped him from behind, holding his head high and petting his neck lightly with the cross edge of the knife, just to remind him it was there.

Then Gabe felt the worst of it. The heat off Jack’s body encroaching on his back, and then something firm prodding him. He remembered Jack saying, “You know better than to squirm,” but he didn’t say it now. Gabe did know better than to squirm, so he didn’t have to.

Suddenly he lifted the hand with the knife and threw it down, slinging the blade into the wood floor in front of him. Gabe gasped, and Jack pulled his head back by the neck, bending his back. He held him to his stomach and stroked his collar bone with his other hand.

Jack grunted quietly, then stepped away. Gabe breathed freely again. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath. He heard Jack walk away, to his right, and then he plodded up the stairs, into the upper room. He shut the door, and Gabe tried moving again.

He winced at the pain in his arms, and relaxed. He hung his head.

-

Jack’s head was buzzing. He was mad with adrenaline and insufficient oxygen. When he opened his eyes, he found his vision dimming around the edges. Despite this, he was determined that he was not going to die this way. He could keep himself standing, he told himself, as long as it took.

In the end, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing. Eventually,panic was replaced with a headache. He was breathing slowly. He’d tried to turn to the side to take some of the weight of his throat. He closed his eyes, and focused, stretching out the time limit on his endurance.

He didn’t see the other Jack coming out of the cabin. He didn’t hear him mucking about with some spare chain in the yard. He did feel him wrap his hands around his shoulders, from the back, and pull his hands away from his neck.

He held his wrists at the small of his back. As he manhandled him, he was pulled too far back to get air, and for a few awful seconds, he held his breath and waited. When he was released, his hands had been tied behind his back. Blood rushed to his head, making him dizzy.

He felt and arm around his waist, and suddenly the tension on his neck loosened. He breathed full, deep breaths. He heard the chain slide off the tree branch and land in the dirt behind him, but he didn’t care about anything but breathing clearly.

His neck felt bruised and sore in the front, tweaked in the back. It hurt to swallow, he learned. He decided to avoid that for a while. Then, slowly, he realized that we was still being held about the waist. Another hand lifted his wrists until his shoulders protested, and he felt something warm pressed against his back, and his ass, and then something hard.

He bloody panicked.

But it was different from the physical panic of fighting for air. This was a mind reeling, surreal panic. He started to struggle, but a hand caught his bicep and pulled him back, and he realized just how tired out he was. His muscles burned when they met resistance. He couldn’t pull away.

The arm on his waist moved, slid up his chest and groped briefly, then wrapped around his neck. Bent back into the hold, he was able to get his arms between himself and the man’s body. It was irrelevant to the man behind him. His other hand was sliding over the smooth canvas of his pants, on his thigh, then over his ass. The man grunted in what sounded like approval as he parsed out his silhouette.

Jack tried to struggle again, and the man turned him, and moved them the two steps over to the tree trunk. Jack struggled harder at being moved, and at the chain on his neck being adjusted. The man didn’t seem overly put out.

He wrapped his left leg in front of Jack’s, and pushed his chest up against the tree. He tripped into it, without both legs for balance, and then he couldn’t get his weight back onto his feet. The other man kept his ankle hooked back. He bent his elbow and put his forearm down across Jack’s shoulders, and was able to act unimpeded.

Jack put his cheek against the bark. He had no plan. He didn’t even know what to say to the man. He grunted when he got anywhere too sensitive, or hissed in pain if he grabbed too hard. The chain laid heavily across his shoulderblade, pushed to the side by the man’s elbow.

He tried to get two solid thoughts together without much success. Finally, he was able to focus on of one of his directives. He said to the man, “Gabe,” and waited.

The man stopped moving, hand still in place. Then he stood up straight. Jack didn’t understand this as an answer. He’d expected to be ignored or a quick, “Shut up.” Maybe a taunt. Best case it would be something he could glean information from.

Instead he paused, then grabbed both his arms and tore him away from the tree, throwing him to the forest floor.

Jack landed on his side, curling his knees forward a bit to keep himself from rolling, hunching his shoulders to protect his head. The man walked around to stand in front of him, and as Jack took a glance up to his mask, he threw one boot into his stomach.

Jack grunted, louder than before. As that pain faded, he noticed a pain in his arm and side, and realized he’d landed on that damn chain. He couldn’t really blame it over the sadist who’d put it there, but he was starting to hate it all the same.

As if he’d read his mind, he came toward him and reached for his face. Jack turned away, but realized soon that he was only reaching for the lock on his neck. He undid it, and pulled it out from under him one arm-length at a time. Holding it, he crouched by Jack’s knees, and he couldn’t help but try to move away. The man grabbed his left ankle, and put his shin down over his right, and said, “You’re going to find that struggling leads to more restraint. The sooner you do, the easier it’ll be.”

He didn’t specify whether it would be easier for Jack, or for him.

He fixed a chain loop around Jack’s ankle, just as he’d done to Gabe, Jack thought. He took his weight off his other leg, crossed Jack’s ankles, and started wrapping the chain around him. He wasn’t doing anything particularly secure with it, Jack noticed. He looped it over his shins and thighs, then measured out a length at the narrow part of his waist with the end, and fastened the other lock. Jack suspected that this was more to impede him than to act as any real restraint.

Then he grabbed the chains on his thigh with his left hand, and grabbed his arm with his right. Although anything the man could have done here would have been unpredictable, he was still surprised when the man picked him up and swung him over his shoulders. 

He let Jack’s weight fall onto him after an instant of free fall, and Jack opened his mouth for a yell that was strangled silent by his swollen throat, as each of the metal studs on his shoulders jabbed into him. His muscles went tense all over, as if his body was trying to resist the intrusion. After a few quick breaths, he could ascertain that it was blunt pain, it hadn’t broken the skin.

It was effective, he had no intention of moving around now. Of all times, he thought about cussing the guy out about this. He didn’t like being carried, firstly, and took more offense to it than anything else he’d done, he realized. The pain only exacerbated his outrage. He kept his mouth shut, let his head hang.

-

He was taken to a dirt patch, back behind the cabin. It was cleared of leaves and foliage, Jack could see, to allow a wide cellar door, leveled with the dirt. The other Jack got the toe of his boot under the edge, and kicked it up to his right hand, leaving Jack to balance on his shoulder for a moment.

Jack assured himself that he must be practiced at this, in order to quell his shock at the man’s abilities, but the thought of how he had become practiced at it only served to unnerve him further.

The man took him down a set of wooden stairs to a six by eight foot room that had been built parallel to it. He stooped, and lifted him just clear of his head to fall to the cement floor below. Jack bared his teeth at the impact to his existing bruises.

The cellar had flooded a few inches, he could feel. He looked up to see a water stained ceiling, and two meat hooks hanging at about eye level.

The stairs creaked, and Jack looked over. The other Jack was sitting down on the steps. He put one leg up on a lower step, the other on the ground, facing him.

He started to relax, stretching his shoulders. Then, to Jack’s shock, he casually reached up to his mask, and pushed it up off his face. 

A new sort of dread bubbled up inside his mind. He really didn’t care whether or not he could identify him. He had extremely distinct scarring over his face. Jack wondered if Gabe had seen it before, he’d never said.

He was pale. Dirt and, perhaps, oil stained his cheeks and forehead. He was free of laughter lines, but had plenty of worry lines. His eyes were calm, and deeply shaded by his brow.

“You’re quiet, kid,” he said.

Jack clenched his jaw. He didn’t feel obligated to respond to that.

“You’re a real contrast to your buddy. Gabriel swears, yells, screams. He’s always back talking me, don’t think he can help it.” He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. He eyed Jack, examining for weak spots. “He’s even loud when he’s getting fucked. Did you know about that?” he led.

Jack pulled an angry face. The man sat forward, and stood up off the stairs. He crouched in front of Jack, and put his hand over his mouth, gripping his jaw, ensuring he wouldn’t look away. 

He repeated, with an icy edge, “Did you know about that?”

He put one knee down on the floor, and Jack flinched as it splashed him with a few droplets of water. The movement only taught him how tight the grip on him was. His neck hurt as it flexed against an unmoving restraint.

He shut his eyes and got a little shake, confirming his intentions for holding him that way. He opened his eyes again to see his other hand moving in front of him. He was stroking himself through his jeans. Jack struggled to keep reign of his anxiety.

He let him go and put both hands to work on the buckle of his belt. He undid the buttons on his fly, then stroked his stiffening erection through the soft fabric. Jack’s shoulders tensed, and the man lashed out to grab him with his free hand as a response.

He grabbed the collar of his shirt, first, then leaned forward and took a fistfull of his hair. He tugged down the band of his briefs. Precum glossed the head of his cock as he took it in hand. He massaged it gently with his thumb, cradling it with his fingers.

He grunted in what could have been a laugh as he looked at Jack’s face, then dropped his dick and reached for him. Jack tried to pull his head back, and the man let go of his hair, only to take grip of his lower jaw. He dug his fingers into Jacks cheeks, pressing into his teeth until it was painful enough for him to open his mouth to vocalize it.

He had closed his eyes at that critical moment, and only learned about the man’s fingers entering his mouth as he felt it. He was fast, rough, jabbing back into his throat then dipping it in as he gagged. He withdrew and let Jack cough.

He looked up at his face, and saw the briefest of satisfied smiles before he turned his face down and spit into his hand. He wet his lips with his tongue as he coated his dick, stroking and turning his hand about the shaft. He breathed out audibly, succumbing to the excitement of arousal.

He worked himself faster. He was steady, and quiet. It almost felt like an awkward pause in the conversation, and Jack was tempted to say something. The other Jack seemed aware of that as well, and so he said, “Just gonna lie there?”

He looked up to the man’s face again.

“You’re buddy would be cussing me out right now. He hates it when I get too close to his face.”

Jack’s inherent reflex to respond sarcastically to anger produced the line, “It isn’t my first time.”

He laughed, and reached out for the back of his neck. He pulled him forward, and put his face down to the ground. He resisted the water, but not well enough to prevent him from putting his cheek down to the cement floor. He held him there with his hand. Jack turned further back, blowing water out of the way of his mouth, eyes shut.

He felt a heavier weight on the side of his head, and realized he’d put his knee down on him. A brief one eyed glance confirmed it, as he found the view was mostly of his cock.

He found a position he was able to breath in, but not comfortably. The water tasted of dirt and rot, with a hint of some chemical product.

“You better look at me, boy,” he heard above him, and he opened one eye again. “You want me to let you up? Or are you good where you’re at?” The rhythm of his voice was altered by physical exertion.

He seethed.

“I wouldn’t bank on it being Gabriel’s first time either, kid. He already knew how to suck a cock by the time I got to him.” Then he said, “Fuck,” but he wasn’t talking to Jack anymore. He put his head back and closed his eyes as he worked himself. He picked his knee up off of Jack, settling his weight back again. He imagined Gabriel waiting for him back in the cabin, how he’d sucked him off before, angry but obedient.

His breathing hitched, and he came, mess spattering onto Jack’s cheek. He turned away without any success at avoiding it. The other Jack panted, warming himself down.

He looked down at Jack. Jack looked back to see him pull a knife out of his jacket pocket. He brandished it, examining his face for a moment. 

He reached out and held him by the jaw, and Jack went still. He brought the blade to his cheekbone carefully, and pressed until it bled. He cut in deep, then withdrew, leaving a two centimetre gash. He felt the blood run down his cheek.

Then he put the knife away, casual as ever, and wiped the blood and come off with his fingers. Off guard at the touch, Jack looked at him, and he he stuffed his fingers into his mouth. He hadn’t been prepared to resist. He reeled back, and made angry noises around his hand.

He put his fingers down on his tongue, and wiped them over his lower teeth as he pulled out. Jack spat as soon as he was free. The man was already standing, closing up his fly. He turned to the staircase and started ascending, scooping up his mask as he went.

He opened the door for himself, and let it fall shut after him, and Jack was alone, listening to the fading footsteps above him.

-

Gabe looked to the door at the top of the stairs when he heard the bolt. It was just past the right-hand post, over his shoulder.

Jack the Ripper was turning something over in one hand with an intrigued expression. He’d left his mask upstairs. As Jack passed the post, and Gabe leaned forward to keep an eye on him. He was holding one of their forward facing cameras. Gabe didn’t comment, even as he came up within a foot of his right side.

He looked up at the camera, and let Jack study it in silence.

Finally he said, “This is a fancy little piece.” He turned the lens toward Gabe. Gabe looked into it with a neutral expression. Jack passed his other hand past the camera and pushed his fingers through Gabe’s hair. As his chin was lifted by the handling, he kept his eye on the camera, resisting snarling.

“USB?” he asked. He started looking at it again.

Gabe drew his mouth to one side, looking at his face.

“I might have the right cable to pull the footage. Pity if I don’t. Not really in a position to make a run into town at the moment.”

“Listen,” Gabe said, on a breath out.

Jack looked at him, and he met his eye, though he was tired.

“Do I have any bargaining chips?” He held an edge of sarcasm, but he waited for an answer.

Jack shifted his weight onto on hip, and said, “Yes.” He put the camera in his back pocket. “Just as pragmatic as I remember. You must do the talking for the both of you.”

“He stonewalls,” Gabe informed him.

“Like a good soldier. You negotiate.” He looked him over with a silent chuckle. “Like a terrible soldier.”

“What do you want?” he put to him.

“I’ll tell you what I want first. I want you to do for me just like you used to.”

Gabe turned away with a grunt of disgust. Jack played with his hair.

“Come on, now,” he coaxed. Gabe looked at him again. The anger in his expression started to rile him. His breathing picked up, but he kept his face from looking hungry.

Gabe looked at his other hand. He was stroking himself through his pants. He had never met a person with so high a sex drive. He thought that he, himself had a high sex drive, before he came here. It was a rare moment that he would say no to a lay, if he liked the person asking. But Jack was aggressively, obsessively sexual. 

Whereas before he met him, Gabe would have said that the phrase “sexual deviancy” was just a code word for “distasteful,” Jack gave it some real meaning. His continuous, violent hunger definitely put him outside the norm, to say nothing of the rape and sexual sadism.

He started to unbutton his pants. Gabe put his head back, waiting for him to get ready. This was routine. He put his hand on Gabe’s shoulder and worked himself until he was hard. Sometimes he spoke, today he didn’t.

Then he took his jaw, cueing him to loosen up, and he put the head of his cock to his lips. Gabe closed his eyes, and pretended it was someone else. He reminded himself not to get too deep into the fantasy, not to imagine anyone specific. 

He sucked a stranger’s dick, between the few shuddering moments in which he remembered how Jack liked it and performed automatically.

He came out of a daze to Jack’s voice. “I missed you,” he said. Gabe controlled a gag. It wasn’t a good time for it, he had his cock too far in and Jack wouldn’t pull out just to let him cough.

Gabe caught his breath and let him work at his own pace.

He stared into nothing as his mind revolted. He was dizzy and he was so deeply horrified that he stopped interpreting input from his senses. Things went on. Jack continued. He let it go without notice. 

-

The next thing, he was left where he was always left when Jack was done-ish: lying on the floor by the wall, chained by the ankle to an eye bolt.

The end of the stairs were at his feet. He was right where Jack could see him upon opening the door. It was where he was supposed to be, despite any freedom his tether gave him.

He let himself think about nothing, until there was a creak of the door, and the warm amber light coming in from upstairs. His heart started to race, tired as he was. He saw the silhouette of two people moving in front of each other. Both Jacks, he assumed.

He heard Jack breathing unevenly as he was pushed around, and then a grunt when he was pushed down the first step. Gabe listened to their overlapping steps. He got far back enough to be of use when they got to the ground floor, up on one knee.

As they moved away from the door, Gabe could see them without the harsh contrast of the fire light. Jack had bruises and blood on his face, but otherwise he looked all right. He was sure that his captor had left other bruises under his clothes, and to make his point he threw Jack down the last three steps.

He bore the impact mostly with his right shoulder, and it worked a guttural shout from between his teeth. Gabe let caution hang and went to him immediately, taking his shoulders and examining him for more serious injury.

He looked up as he heard the other Jack walk down the final steps. He walked to the side and faced Gabe, folding his arms. Gabe saw that he had pinned them both up against the wall. His clinging became more to reassure himself than Jack.

The killer tossed one of his padlocks, open, to the floor in front of Gabe. Gabe watched it land, then looked back at the old man.

“Chain him up,” he ordered.

Gabe started to snarl.

“I’ll do it if you don’t want to,” he offered in monotone.

He simmered, and picked up the lock. He let go of Jack and looked for the end of his chain. He buckled it to the very last link, and hooked on to the same ring which tethered him. 

The man chuckled at him. “I see. I give you an inch, and you take the whole damn chain,” he said. He came a step closer and crouched in front of Gabe. At eye level with him, he took one hand and ran it through his hair, brushing black locks out of his face.

Gabe bore it with a steady scowl.

He sighed, Gabe would say happily, then he pat his cheek twice, and stood. Gabe followed with his eyes as he walked back to the stairs, and out. When the door was closed, he turned to Jack.

He helped him sit up, whispering, “Are you all right?”

Jack winced, but answered, “I’m fine. It’s all bruising, nothing serious.”

He helped Jack sit back against the wall, sitting himself between him and the stairs. “You must feel like shit.”

Jack sighed and put his head back against the wall. “This is not the worst I’ve ever felt,” was all he could say for it.

Gabe gave him a sympathetic chuckle, and looked down.

“What about you? I’m really, really happy to see you.”

“Likewise, you have no idea.” He shook his head. “I would have assumed you were dead if I didn’t know this bastard. He drags it out, we’ll probably live another few agonizing days, if not weeks.”

“That’s good,” he said readily. “Gives us time to think of a plan.”

Gabe scoffed. He shook his head with a pessimistic chuckle. “We’re not going to get any less exhausted. We won’t be fit to make plans in a few days.”

“We’ve gotten out of plenty of tight spots, Gabe. It’s not over till it’s over.”

Gabe refused to look at him. In hindsight, he regretted bringing Jack out here. They were nothing but collateral against each other. Of course, if he’d known they’d get caught, he wouldn’t have come at all.

“Jack,” Gabe said.

Jack looked at him.

He kept his voice as quiet as he could. “Why didn’t you go when I told you to go?” When he looked at him to get his answer, there were honest to god tears in his eyes, though he couldn’t say whether it was frustration or exhaustion.

Jack looked him in the eye, but he had an opaque expression, for once. It took him so long that Gabe interrupted what may have been the beginning of a response in his impatience.

“I’ve never seen you make a mistake like that in the field. You had the camera, you had the map, you could have gotten the authorites out here if you’d just fucking run when I told you to. What happened?”

Jack watched him breathe through clenched teeth. He didn’t want to aggravate the anguish and self blame he already saw on Gabe’s face, but clamming up on him was worse. “He knew I was here. If he thought he was going to get caught, he would have killed you as soon as I left.”

“And this is better?” He was planning on going on a another tirade, but Jack opened his mouth again, waiting for him to quiet.

“Gabe, losing you on this one is not an acceptable outcome,” he said.

“Well now we’re both dead, is that what you wanted?” he argued.

“We’re not dead,” he said in a whisper, motioning with his hand for Gabe to watch his volume. His temper always got the better of him in stressful situations. Jack hesitated to think what it had been like for him the last time, alone, with no one to keep him calm.

Gabe breathed once through his nose, and adjusted his tone. “We’re as good as dead, Jack.”

“We’re not dead yet,” he assured him again. Jack looked at the ground in front of him, and started to think. Gabe let him do so in silence, shifting his weight back to his own side.

Gabe wiped some of the tears and sweat and dirt off his face with one hand, looking around at the basement. They heard the creaking of floorboards above them, and looked up, until it proved to be an idle movement. 

Jack scratched his temple for a moment, then bumped his nose with his index finger to readjust some of the dirt that was tickling his sinuses. He sighed. Then he said, “Gabe, I love you.”

Gabe looked over, and he just looked down. He rested his forearms on his knees and wove his hands together. He sat like that in such casual silence that Gabe thought he’d mistaken the significance of the statement. 

Finally he added, “Maybe this isn’t the time for this conversation.”

Gabe opened his mouth and blinked a few times. “It isn’t not the time for this conversation.”

Jack finally looked at him. His brow was tense. But Gabe looked like he wanted him to say more. “I had a little crush when we first met, but I knew it wasn’t appropriate, so I just kinda pushed it aside and focused on training and work.”

“And then what happened?” He hoped that came across sincerely in a whisper.

“I don’t know, we spent like eight years together and you were the closest friend I had. You know my family’s not great, and I don’t open up to new people easily, so having someone I could depend on, constantly,” he trailed off, then swallowed. “When I think back on the best moments of my life, you’re in all of them.”

Gabe couldn’t think of a response to that. His face was flushed, but he had hope that it was too dark for Jack to see. His heart rate had sped up, he could hear it beat in his head in the new silence and he could feel it in the veins above his ears. His body wasn’t up to this kind of strain, but he was going to muscle through it, he was determined of that. “You really care about me that much?” he asked, struggling to whisper.

He raised one eyebrow on an otherwise neutral expression. “I care about you more than anything else in my life.”

He couldn’t believe that. “More than your career?” he pried.

“If it were between you and my career, I’d pick you,” he said.

Gabe’s mouth hung open in somewhat peeved disbelief. “We’ve been roommates for eight years. You move all the way to Colorado Springs, and then you tell me?”

Jack resisted laughing. He smiled as a substitute. It was momentarily relieving to feel something aside from straight anxiety. 

“What the hell, Morrison?” he added.

“You know, I’m supposed to stay in the Springs for another six months, but I’ll tell you what. If we make it out alive, I’ll move to Boulder.”

Gabe let the thought settle in. “Really?” he asked.

He nodded, smiling in mild embarrassment. “Do you have enough room for a roommate?”

Gabe raised his eyebrows, then tried his luck with, “My bed’s a queen.”

He resisted laughing again, shoulders shaking in silence. “Gabe,” he said in a questioning tone. “Are you saying you want to,” he trailed off again, avoiding Gabe’s eyes.

“I mean, I think it’s a little soon to be talking about marriage.”

Jack met his eye, still smiling, but begging with his expression for a straight answer.

“Jack,” he started, and stopped, because he didn’t really know how to verbalize his own feelings. He tipped his head to one side and scrunched his brow in thought. He looked back and finished, “I know you’re not that dense. How many times can a guy joke about plowing you before you realize he’s down for it?”

“You make those jokes about everyone.”

He sighed. His feelings were overwhelming, even as he was on the cusp of expressing them. He had never said to himself that he loved Jack, he didn’t know if that was quite it. He adored him. He was awed by him, he was proud of him, proud to be his friend and his teammate. He was jealous of him, he was jealous of everyone who ever talked to him. Jack was perfect, and nice, and personable, and he drew people to him, and Gabe hated that. He would regularly cling about him during social gatherings, scaring people off with his overall nastiness. He wanted Jack alone all the time, but he swore he’d never say that aloud.

He dwelt on the shame for a moment. He didn’t want Jack to leave him. He didn’t want Jack to leave him here. But he didn’t want Jack to die here, either. He looked at the chain on Jack’s ankle, and sympathized with it. 

Jack reached over and took his hand. Gabe looked at it. Jack gave him a reassuring squeeze, and said, “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

-

It was difficult for Jack to relax enough to sleep, but when he did, he was comatose. A gunshot could have gone off and he wouldn’t have stirred. It took Gabe half an hour of screaming before he finally started to come out of it.

The repetitive noises of pain had invaded his dreams until he finally woke enough to realize that it wasn’t his mind. He was awake and he knew it, and the sound continued.

He picked his head up, and looked for Gabe. He’d been lying in front of him. He found him a few feet off, but his body was difficult for his eyes to decipher. His elbows were on the ground, and his head was hanging between his shoulders. He was jerking forward, yelling each time, and then screaming. He lifted his face and Jack saw the agony as his cries rang in his ears.

Jack could follow his torso to his waist, but then he was obscured by something. An arm wrapping around him from above. Follow the arm, and there was his nightmare, real, in front of his waking eyes.

Jack yelled, “Gabe,” in horror, in devastation.

The man dug his nails into Gabe’s side, leaving red gashes down to his hip. He was grunting in effort, on his knees behind him. Jack put his knees and hands to the floor, scrambling to gain traction, and he hurled himself in their direction. He felt a yanking pain in his ankle and hip, and then his chest slammed into the ground. He was dazed. The screaming continued.

He put his brow in the dirt and looked back to see what had him. The man had locked his chain to a shorter allowance. His ankle was suspended by how taut he’d pulled it. Gabe was still impossibly far.

His head was hanging again. Jack called his name, but he didn’t look up. The other man slid his palm down Gabe’s back, toward his neck, until he could push his fingers into the short hair on the back of his head. “Gabriel,” he coaxed.

He didn’t respond. He pretended he was yelling too loud to hear him.

“Gabriel,” he repeated. “Why don’t you perform for him like you did for me?”

He yelled out now in anger, as well as pain.

“Say his name like you did for me.” He pet his head once, then grabbed his hair and pulled. Gabe’s voice strained. “Say it,” he growled. “Like before.”

Gabe’s voice turned breathy.

“Don’t make me convince you.” 

He panted heavily, then said quietly, “Jack.”

He kept driving into him, and squeezed the back of his neck.

“Jack,” he said again, louder. His voice was sorrowful as he spoke. Then he yelled, “Jack,” and when he went back to non verbal noises, it didn’t sound as pained. It started to sound blissful.

The other Jack stroked his side, then down the inside of his hip. Gabe cried out again as he grabbed his cock, and started to stroke.

He yelled, “Jack,” again, as a lover would. “God, fuck, Jack.”

The man on top of him brought his hand back to his hair, and yanked his head back, until he had to arch his back and get up onto his hands. “You goddamned slut,” he said through clenched teeth, real anger seeping into his voice. He threw his head forward again, and started working his cock with quick, inconsiderate strokes, as fast as he pounded into him.

Gabe made a sound that he only made for pleasure. The man grabbed his hips with both hands and forced him back each time he’d thrust. Gabe peppered the air with sonorous gasps and moans.

The man on top of him groaned and halted, suddenly. His shoulders shook, and Gabe yelled again. As the man panted, he gave him two slower thrusts, then pushed Gabe off, let him fall back to his elbows.

There was a still moment, in the cool basement, as all that could be heard were the hot breaths of exertion.

Still panting, Jack pulled a knife off his belt, and took Gabe’s shoulder with the other hand. The other Jack tensed at the introduction of the weapon. He watched as he brought it carefully to Gabe’s shoulder, and the man forced him into an angle with enough lighting to see what he was doing.

What Jack saw, what they both saw, was a neat line of scar tissue, beginning near his neck and extending out over his trapezius. Squinting, he saw that it was an orderly little line of tally marks. There were too many groups of five for him to count with his eyes alone, but he saw that at the very end, tallies three and four were fresh cuts. With that grotesque realization, he watched the man dig the fifth across the other four. The newest one opened up at being contorted by the knife. 

When he was finished, he stood, looking down on Gabe. The man wiped the sweat off his mouth with his forearm, and pulled up his pants. He reclasped them, and walked to the stairs as he fastened his belt.

When they were alone, Jack could hear Gabe’s heavy breathing. He had stayed on his hands and knees, and kept his face down.

“Gabe,” Jack said quietly.

He looked away, pained by the recognition.

“Please,” Jack said. He didn’t know where his clothes were. He’d been stripped completely. “Is there anything I can do?”

There was a moment of silence, then Gabe barked at him, “You can goddamned look away, Morrison.”

He looked down immediately. He’d gotten up onto his elbows. He studied the floor in front of him. Thinking through his next moves, he let Gabe know, “I’m looking down.”

Gabe wiped his face with one hand. There were tears on his cheeks that made mud on his dirty face.

Jack heard him shuffling. He put one hand up as a visor, and reached the other one out, and laid it palm up on the floor.

After a few minutes, Gabe noticed it, and tried to figure out why it was there. Fresh tears came to his eyes. He took it slowly, and Jack squeezed his hand. He laid himself down and put his other hand over his face. He fell asleep long before he wanted to. He couldn’t help it. But it would be difficult for Jack to relax enough to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween here's my one (1) fic youre welcome
> 
> maybe there will be more? one can hope?
> 
> edit: happy halloween again, while working on chapter 2 i edited chapter 1 so hopefully fewer typos.


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